


The Way You Do Me

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect
Genre: Crossover, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not a lot of guys bigger than James Vega, and this one's got a terrific rack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way You Do Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commanderlurker (honeybee592)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/gifts).



It was official, James decided. He was never letting Shepard pick the bar again.

He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten there, and since he wasn't drunk yet, he knew that wasn't a good sign. Shepard had shoved him into two cabs, led him through a web of dark alleyways. Squeezed through what he was pretty sure was a keeper tunnel and waved an omni-tool over a stretch of blank wall to reveal a door. 

Then just walked in, like that was a perfectly normal way to get into a bar.

Shit, maybe that _was_ normal for Shepard. He'd started to think that maybe they don't make you N7 without something a little off in there. 

Made him wonder what's loose in his own head that earned him an invite.

After all that? Just a bar. Flashing lights, throbbing bass, overpriced beer and the smell of sweat. Bunch of people pressed close, dancing away what they could forget, drinking what they couldn't. Shepard lost somewhere already, sometimes visible for a bare moment, a head bobbing above the sea of bodies, completely and joyously off-beat.

"Buy you a drink?"

James turned and found himself staring at the biggest guy he'd ever seen. Staring at his chest, really, because the guy was _big_. Beyond krogan big, and James had been strapped into a troop transport next to krogan enough times in the past few months that he knew krogan big. Big chest, thick neck… horns. Dude had fucking _horns_. James had seen a lot of aliens, but he'd never seen any with horns before.

Yet here he was, at the galaxy's most inconvenient generic bar, staring up at a massive pair of horns. Staring long enough that he was unpleasantly reminded that there was a guy under the horns, a guy who was looking down at him expectantly. Shit, because he was _staring_ , like some sort of creep.

"Eyes down here, big guy. Though I don't blame you," the man said, taking a sip of his own beer, "It's a pretty impressive rack."

He laughed at his own joke, just threw his head (and the _horns_ ) back and went for it. It should have a been a turn-off, but James found himself laughing along. Nervousness, maybe, or maybe the fact that once he'd dragged his eyes off the horns he'd gotten an eyeful of the man beneath them, and-

_Damn._

The guy was big, yeah, but he was big and _hot_. Big smile, little scruff. A soldier or a merc, definitely, James could have called that just by the way he leaned against the bar, but deep scars cut across his face, disappearing behind an eyepatch. Scars like his, like James' own, those didn't come from a desk job. Those were scars with stories, impressive ones.

Impressive wasn't the word. This man could have been a cover model for Badass Weekly, the kind of issue James would have hidden under the mattress of his bunk in Basic.

And he wanted to buy him a drink. Well, shit. James would have to be dead to say no to that one, and he wasn't dead tonight. 

Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.

* * *

Bull was big all over. 

(The guy's name was _Bull_. Just that. James knew a nickname when he heard it, but hell, he'd have probably gone there with those horns, too. Whatever. Guy could call himself anything he liked, long as he didn't ever stop kissing like that.)

James wasn't a small man. Or a dumb one. He knew why people watched him, why the women and men that shared his bed ended up there, and it didn't bother him. It was appreciation, really. A side benefit of all that time in the gym.

He'd just never had a chance to experience it for himself.

With Bull so close, pressing him up against the wall of the bar's back hallway, he could feel everything. That big barrel chest, the bicep muscles of those thick, powerful arms working, flexing under his hand. Bull had to bend down to reach his mouth, curling over him. He was surrounded, lost in a haze of sweat and arousal. Small.

"Hey."

James registered the lack of another mouth on his own before he connected it to the words. Bull kissed hard, tongue everywhere and more teeth than he would have thought was hot before the guy had them dug into his lower lip. Stung, like a split lip after a good fight. Really fucking good. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, brought the man looming over him back into focus.

"This is great, believe me. I could do this all night with you," Bull said, and he shoved his hips up against James' one more time for emphasis. He was hard and hot beneath the fabric of his jeans and yeah, James was convinced.

"But," he continued, "unless we leave, that's as far as we go. Not saying you have to, but if I'm fucking you… The things I want to _do_ to you…" He grunted, somewhere so low down in his throat that it had James halfway to his knees already. "We need a bed. And a door."

A bed and a door. Right. His cock was more than on-board for this plan, halfway out of the bar already, but James still had enough blood up top to fire up his omni-tool. Shoot a message to Shepard, call a cab-

(They were _where_? Shepard was one hell of a soldier, but he worried about the Commander sometimes. More than sometimes.)

-and find a place for the night, something cheap. Citadel cheap, not Omega cheap, clean sheets and no bullet holes in the walls. Bull watched him steadily the whole time, the glow of the 'tool sparkling in his eye.

"A bed and a door." James took a deep breath as Bull pulled back, all the way off him, heavy weight he hadn't even noticed gone in a moment. Missed it, a little.

He led Bull down the hallway and out into the simulated night.

* * *

A bed and a door, but Bull had him back up against the wall as soon as the door closed, the bed only visible for a moment behind a massive shoulder before all he saw was Bull again.

He thrust shamelessly against Bull's thigh, the only thing keeping his knees from buckling and sending him to the floor. He was hard, so hard it almost hurt, and the first time Bull reached down to touch him, to grind the heel of his palm against him, he nearly came. _Shit._

Coming in his pants was not how this night was going to end, James decided, so he gave Bull a shove. Not even a little one, a real push to the stomach, but underneath that fat the guy was iron. Barely even moved, but Bull had gotten the message.

"Everything okay?" He looked concerned. Pulled back, even, and James followed without thinking.

It took a moment for James to come down long enough to summon words, but he nodded quickly, if only to stop Bull from moving any farther away.

"Yeah, yeah." He licked his lips. "Just thinkin' we could lose the pants. Find the bed." He shoved up against the arm that caged him against the wall. It didn't move.

The look of concern faded in an instant, replaced by a naked hunger that sent shivers down James' spine. 

"Good plan." 

With that, Bull picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, and carried him to the bed. James' breath left his lungs in a huff as his back hit the comforter, and the bed dipped and creaked ominously as Bull joined him.

James was thankful he wasn't paying for the room tonight. Having to replace a broken bed on shore leave was the kind of gossip that got around a ship pretty quick, even without EDI's big mouth. Scars would never let him hear the end of it.

A firm hand stopped his own as he reached down to unbuckle his belt.

"Let's make it a challenge. You try and get mine off, and I'll get yours off." Bull grinned down at him, friendly, but the hand on his wrist was tight. He probably couldn't have moved it if he tried.

"What makes you think I won't win?" James flexed a little, bristling at the implication. Bull just shrugged, the grin unshakeable.

"Maybe you will. It'll be more fun if you're really trying." Bull released his hand, gesturing to his own cock, clearly outlined by the denim of his jeans. Outlined by a _lot_ of the denim of his jeans. 

Shit.

James fought dirty. He lunged, then, coming off his back in a rush, pushing the advantage of surprise. Bull just laughed and twisted, using James' momentum to turn them both. He drove him down into the bed, chest to chest.

"Try a little harder than that."

James squirmed under him, torn between his hatred of losing and, _fuck_ , the way Bull's weight felt on his body, the way his head was trapped beneath a heavy arm, pressing his face against the musky skin. Still had a hand free, though, enough to shove between them, gain some space. His fingers found the closure of Bull's jeans and he tugged, hoping to get them loose.

Bull's weight eased and a hand was in his hair, tugging him up into a forceful kiss. James leaned into it, relaxing, not seeing the trap until it snapped shut. His belt buckle popped open with a click.

Then Bull's hand was on his cock, finally touching him, and James didn't give a fuck about winning anymore. He shimmied his hips, using the motion to shove his pants farther down his legs, opening himself up as much as he could so Bull could give him more. More anything, anything he wanted.

He was panting, breathing hard like he'd just run a mile in heavy armor, and Bull was pulling, stroking. Driving him crazy. Reaching down to stroke his balls, that big hand cupping and squeezing like it was James' own. Like the guy had watched him in the showers or something, the way he touched him. It didn't matter. He knew what exactly James wanted. Exactly what he _needed_ , and James didn't care if he was some freaky psychic; if that's what made him this good at a handie he'd take it.

Bull had his own jeans open now too, shoved down around his knees just like James, and James could feel him, massive and hard against his hip. Reached down, to return the favor, but Bull grabbed his hand and pulled it up, pinned it above his head with a hard push for emphasis.

That was how James came, right then, his body stretched and every muscle fighting, straining uselessly against the bulk of the man above him. One of the really good ones, best he'd ever had, toes curled and white behind the eyes. Bull kept stroking him, right up until the edge of _too much_ , and when he moved to clean his hand James couldn't stop his disappointed whimper. Didn't even care that he _was_ whimpering. 

Guy could have his whimper. Guy could have anything, at that point. James would toss him his credit chit, maybe throw in the keys to the Normandy if he had them.

The bed dipped as Bull returned, running a hand through James' hair.

"That was a good warm up."

_Fuck._


End file.
